


Orange

by costumejail



Series: Hyper Thrust Pride Week [3]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, First Aid, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nonbinary Jet Star (Danger Days), Nonbinary Party Poison (Danger Days), Nonbinary Show Pony (Danger Days), One Shot, also another cliffhanger ending, but a little more hopeful, god i write so much first aid, not as bloody as the last thing i posted but still not fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24658012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/costumejail/pseuds/costumejail
Summary: Fun Ghoul gets a little more medical attention.
Relationships: Fun Ghoul & Party Poison (Danger Days), Jet Star & Kobra Kid & Party Poison (Danger Days), Show Pony & Party Poison (Danger Days)
Series: Hyper Thrust Pride Week [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1779970
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	Orange

**Author's Note:**

> Day three of [Killjoynest](killjoynest.tumblr.com)'s Hyper Thrust Pride Week!  
> As I said in the tags, this one still has a fair bit of blood and has more medical procedures than _Red_ did. And another cliffhanger ending... Sorry!  
> Read carefully!

The blood was starting to dry on Party Poison’s hands by the time Show Pony arrived at the diner. Under his tan skin and dark bruises, Fun Ghoul was the palest Poison had ever seen him. The flow of blood from the deep wound in his thigh had stopped, but Poison didn’t let up the pressure. They stayed frozen, kneeling with one hand on the towel serving as a bandage, and the knuckles of the other firmly clenched between their teeth.

With no warning, the door to the diner crashed open and Show Pony rolled through the door. They carried a robust medkit and opened it to reveal a clear bag of dark red liquid. Without a word, Pony pulled out a knife. Poison let out a cry and lunged at Pony, but they fended him off with one hand and used the other to cut off the sleeve of Ghoul’s shirt, exposing the tender skin at the crook of his elbow.

“I’m  _ helping  _ him, Pois. Back off.”

So Poison watched helplessly as Pony swabbed the inside of Ghoul’s arm and placed a needle into the vein there. Within a few minutes, Pony had set up the bag of blood with some tubing that led into Ghoul’s arm and was holding it above Ghoul’s head.

“Trade you,” they murmured.

The words bounced around Poison’s mind, not registering as anything but noise. After a moment, Poison clued into what Pony meant and they reached up to take the blood bag from them. Pony gently removed Poison’s hand from the towel and tried to lift it off of the wound. The sound of the towel peeling back from Ghoul’s leg was a sound that Poison may never forget. It was the sound of old velcro, ripping fabric, a sick crackle that Poison felt, rather than heard.

“Okay,” muttering to themself, Pony left the towel where it was, glued to Ghoul’s thigh with dried blood. They blew their hair back from the face. “We’re takin’ him to the hospital. Help me get ‘im up.”

Wordlessly, Poison handed back the bag, wedged his arms under Ghoul’s motionless body, and heaved him up. As he stood, Poison cradled Ghoul in his arms and it hit him just how small the ‘joy was. Ghoul was nearly weightless in Poison’s arms, and his head rolled limply with each step Poison took. Following Pony, Poison left the diner and walked towards Dr. Death-Defying’s van. Still holding up the transfusion bag, Pony opened the back doors and Poison carefully climbed in. He sat on the floor of the van and arranged Ghoul so that he was lying between Poison’s legs, back to Poison’s chest. Pony handed back the blood bag and traced one hand down Poison’s cheek before closing the van doors behind them. The sudden darkness pressed against Poison’s eyes, and the only thing keeping him from panicking was Ghoul’s solid body weighing down Poison. A minute later, the driver’s door opened and closed and Pony started up the van. Poison hunched over Ghoul’s still form, needlessly putting pressure back on the wound, just to feel like he was doing something.

Poison doesn’t remember anything after that. They don’t remember Pony making endless radio calls as they drove, first to a hospital in a neutral settlement in zone five, then to Cherri Cola, then to the Kobra Kid. They don’t remember the van skidding to a stop outside the crumbling building that used to be a school but now serves as a hospital to the southern zones, the doors opening and the concerned faces of two too-clean medics peering in at them as they curled around Ghoul protectively. They don’t remember fighting like a feral animal when they medics tried to take Ghoul away from them, snarling and scratching until Pony jumped into the fray and wrapped strong arms around them.

Poison’s memories catch up with him later, when he’s numbly sitting on a folding chair in the hallway outside of Ghoul’s room. Kobra finds him staring across the hall at the place where the floor meets the wall, idly focusing at the thin line of dirt that a broom can’t quite reach.

“Party,” Kobra’s voice is even, betraying no emotion.

But when Poison drags his eyes away from the wall and up to Kobra’s face, they watch Kobra’s face crumple.

“Party,” Kobra repeats. His voice breaks, just slightly, and he swoops down to wrap him in a hug.

Poison doesn’t return the embrace.

Jet Star is behind Kobra, pain written on their every feature. They don’t move toward Poison, though. Their gaze meets Poison’s and crumples, just like Kobra’s did.

“Pony said you saved his life.”

It’s not a question, so Poison doesn’t respond. Kobra lets go of them and backs up just enough to look at Poison’s empty face. He sits on the floor next to Poison, resting his head against their thigh, and Jet takes up the post on their other side.

Poison returns to staring at the join between the wall and the floor.

Minutes later, maybe hours, the door opens. The Kobra Kid jerks awake and Poison snaps his head up, fixing the medic with a paralyzing glare.

“He’ll be fine. We think.”

“You think?” Kobra repeats sharply.

“He lost a lot of blood and when we cleaned the wound we found shattered fragments of a blade inside-”

A ragged gasp from Jet cuts off the medic.

“... But, it looks like the main artery was only just nicked and you managed to stop the bleeding before he lost too much blood. We’ve finished the transfusion that you and Show Pony started and we have another one going. I’d like to give him one more after this, just to be sure, but we’re out of stock and-”

“I’m a universal donor.” 

They’re the first words that Poison’s said in hours, and their voice is rusty with disuse.

The medic nods, “I’ll go get a bag.” They turn to leave and then pivot all the way around to face Poison again, reaching into their pocket as they do so. “Oh, I almost forgot. This was in his pocket.”

A hand that Poison dimly registers as his own reaches out and accepts that small item the medic hands him. It’s a bracelet. Clear glass beads on a black cord, Jet reaches up and ties the string around Poison’s wrist.

“It’s a sandpup thing. It’s an apology,” they explain.

A lump grows in Poison’s throat and they nod jerkily.

“It’s not your fault, Pois,” murmurs Kobra from his other side.

Silence descends over the trio again.

When the medic returns, he sets up the equipment needed to gather the blood. A series of tubes, rubber bands, a clear plastic bag, and one large needle. An alcohol-soaked swab swipes over Poison’s arm and the medic is soon telling them to clench their hand into a fist and then sliding the needle into a vein. Once the blood has started to flow through the tubing, they hand Poison a large round fruit.

An orange.

“You’ve been here a few hours and I don’t want you passing out once you’re done. I’ll be back to check on you in a few.”

Poison nods again and the medic leaves. Kobra reaches up and takes the orange from Poison. He peels the skin off, releasing a sharp, bright scent. The flesh of the fruit is nearly the same vibrant shade as the rind and splits easily into segments. As Kobra feeds them to Poison, one by one, the buzzing that he hadn’t noticed was present in his head subsides.

The bag is already full by the time the medic returns, they pull the needle from Poison’s arm and hand Jet a bandage to put over the spot. With the promise that they’ll let his crewmates in to see him soon, the medic and the bag of Poison’s blood vanish into Ghoul’s room.

The combined effects of adrenaline crash, blood loss, and the assurance that they’ll be able to see Ghoul soon cause Poison to slump in their chair. Their stiff posture dissolves as they let out an uneven sigh.

“C’mere,” Jet murmurs, pulling Poison out of his chair and into their lap. His hands find Jet’s collar and Poison curls into Jet, burying his face in their neck. When Jet begins to card through Poison’s hair, another bit of tension leaves his frame and he takes a shuddery breath. “You’re okay, he’s okay.”

Jet continues to whisper soft words into Poison’s hair as they sob. By the time the door to Ghoul’s room opens again, Poison’s cried themself out.

“You can come in now.” the medic waves to the three ‘joys huddled on the floor.

Shooting to their feet, Poison drags Jet up with him, gripping their hand hard enough to hurt. Kobra gets to his feet as well and Poison hears him following him to the door.

Poison takes a deep breath and steps into Ghoul’s room.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna be honest I'm not suuuuper happy with how this one turned out but hey! It's a little more optimistic than the last one! I'm still enjoying this storyline though and I've got some more ideas for where I'm gonna take it next so hopefully I get more inspiration tomorrow!  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you did, either here or at my [tumblr!](sleevesareforloser.tumblr.com)


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